


pink

by waveydnp



Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: phil has food poisoning and dan takes care of him





	pink

**Author's Note:**

> for mandy

“I’m going to bed.”

Dan flops his read round where it’s lolled against the back of the sofa to frown at Phil, who’s slouched in the corner clutching his pillow. “It’s not even ten.”

“I feel disgusting.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously being passive aggressive about the chicken? It wasn’t pink.”

“I’m not. It was pink, but i’m not being passive aggressive. That’s your thing not mine.”

“Oh piss off.”

Phil stands up. Admittedly he doesn’t look great. His skin looks sallow, pale as ever but with even less colour than usual. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, you ass.”

Dan feels guilty instantly, his voice softening as he looks up at Phil’s ruffled fringe and skinny arms still wrapped around that pillow. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Phil shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be able to fall asleep yet, would you?”

“Probably not.”

Phil walks over and leans down, pressing a kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Don’t stay up too late. Maybe work on your script, yeah?”

Dan just grunts, but he lifts his face to catch Phil’s lips, a quick peck in way of goodnight. “Drink some water.”

Phil just nods, turning away and heading up the stairs.

He doesn’t work on the script. He trolls Antoni Porowski’s instagram and watches two episodes of drag race. Phil will be cross he watched without him but he just can’t help himself. 

Guilt forces him off the sofa and up the stairs just after one in the morning. It still feels way too early but he can’t let his sleep schedule get too fucked, especially for no real reason. Maybe if he was actually working on the script it’d be ok. But he’s not, and he doesn’t want to, so sleep is the only option. 

Maybe Phil will be feeling better and up for a quickie. That’ll help him sleep.

When his teeth are brushed and his clothes lie in a heap at the foot of the bed, he crawls in next to Phil. He spoons himself against Phil’s side, hitching his leg up and wrapping his arm around Phil’s waist. 

His skin is sweaty and hot. Too hot. So he’s probably not feeling better and it’d be a real dick to move to wake him up for sex right now. 

He doesn’t have to wake him up. Phil wakes up all on his own, the moment Dan’s fingers press into his side. He stirs, wrenching his arm from between their bodies and throwing it over his eyes. He groans, pushing Dan’s leg off of him and pulling his own knees up. 

“Sorry,” Dan whispers. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Phil groans again before sitting up with a jerk. Dan sits up too, and puts a hand on Phil’s shoulder. 

It’s hard to tell in the dark of their bedroom, but Dan thinks Phil looks like shit. Truly. He’s frowning deeply, a hand pressed gingerly against his stomach. 

Phil looks at Dan with unfocused eyes. “I don’t—” He doesn’t have time to finish whatever thought he was having before he’s being sick. 

Violently. All down Dan’s bare chest.

Dan’s own stomach lurches, but he swallows back the bile in his throat. 

“Oh my—” Phil retches again, though he has the wherewithal to turn away from Dan this time. “Oh my god.”

Dan’s stunned for a moment before the awful sound of Phil heaving into his own lap shakes him out of it. He jumps up, looking around futilely for something to clean himself up with before giving up and just using the corner of their bedsheet. He can’t tend to Phil with vomit on his chest. 

Phil whimpers in between the waves of sick. Dan’s heart pounds as he tries to ignore the irrational panic that courses through him as he tries to decide what to do next. 

“I’m sorry Dan,” Phil says weakly. 

“Shut up,” Dan says, as softly and full of empathy as those words could possibly be spoken. “Think you can make it to the toilet?”

“Dunno.”

Dan walks around to Phil’s side of the bed. “Come on.” He pulls Phil’s arm around his shoulder and Phil leans his weight into Dan’s side as Dan helps him out of bed. They’re both covered in sick—they have to get out of here whether Phil can handle it or not.

“Might be sick on the way.” Phil sounds so broken and pitiful it makes Dan’s throat tighten.

“It’s fine, Phil. I’ll clean it up later.”

Phil sinks to his knees and heaves into the toilet the moment they make it to the bathroom. Dan kneels next to him, pushing his damp fringe off his forehead.

Phil slumps against Dan’s chest when this particular wave has passed. It’s gross and they both desperately need a shower, but Dan welcomes him, draping his arm over Phil’s back and stroking his tacky skin with his thumb. 

“I freaking told you that chicken was undercooked,” Phil croaks. 

“Fuck you, Lester. I ate just as much of it as you did and I’m not being sick everywhere.”

Phil nuzzles his forehead into Dan’s neck. “You stink.”

“Whose fault is that?” Dan stands up and goes to start the water for a shower. “Can you stand?”

Phil shrugs. “I’ll probably just be sick again.”

“S’fine,” Dan says, pushing his pants down his thighs. “It’ll just go down the drain. We need to get cleaned up. C’mon.” He holds his hand out and helps Phil up, supporting his weight as he helps him out of his pants too.

“What if it starts coming out the other end too?” Phil whinges once they’re stood under the stream of warm water and Dan’s lathering them both up.

“It probably will,” Dan says gently. “It’s fine, Phil. Obviously something went in there that shouldn’t have and your body is doing what it needs to to get it out.”

Phil just moans. Sometimes, times like these, Dan forgets he’s supposed to be the younger one. Phil really is a complete baby when it comes to stuff like this. 

They're dry and dressed and Dan is leaned back against the armrest of the sofa with a slightly shaky Phil facing forward and melting into his chest with a mixing bowl between his legs. There’s a large glass of water on the coffee table and Dan intends to force Phil to drink it over the course of the night, no matter how hard he protests. 

Dan’s hand runs through Phil’s damp hair, pressing fingertips gently into his scalp and dragging. 

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Phil says. His words are empty and Dan knows it. He knows how much Phil needs him right now.

Besides, it’s not exactly like he can go back to bed now anyway. He’s got a lot of laundry to do before that’s an option. Technically he could go downstairs and sleep in the AmazingPhil room, but it’s cold and impersonal in there and he’d only feel guilty for leaving Phil alone. 

He’ll leave the cleaning for tomorrow. Or later today, to be more precise. When his own nerves have calmed and he doesn’t feel like he himself might be sick at any moment. 

And at least this gives him an excuse to avoid working on that fucking video for a day or two. “What d'you wanna watch?” he asks. 

“Drag race.”

Dan queues up the first of the two episodes he’d just finished watching. 

“You didn’t watch this yet, did you?” Phil asks. “I thought I heard something earlier.”

Dan kisses Phil’s temple. “Course not.”


End file.
